


I'm still here

by inkedmind1994



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Lives, Ben Solo is a Mess, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Romance, F/M, Feelings, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Redemption, Redeemed Ben Solo, Redemption, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soft Ben Solo, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkedmind1994/pseuds/inkedmind1994
Summary: Shel Thryrtinos thought she had better things to do for the former resistance than being sent to the Tatooine outpost.Leaving her friends behind, she is trusted with making sure the outpost remains in place for the resistance and to keep a watchful eye over the former resistance's most recent member. Kylo Ren. Or Ben Solo as he now likes to be known. Trusting an old enemy is harder than it looks even when that enemy is trying to prove they've changed.To deal with the everyday problems of living in the desert, Shel must confront her issues and try to understand the former sith before the isolation breaks them both.Extreme Slow burn. Angst. You've been warned.Also, this is an alternate timeline where Rey died instead of Kylo because I seriously wanted that redemption arc done right.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

The compressor fizzed in my hands before the heat burned into my fingertips. I hissed and whipped my hand away from the stinging piece of metal that was trying my last nerve. The android refused to be fixed; I had been prying bits of fried metal and wires out of its rusted shell for nearly 6 hours. I sucked on the burnt fingertip while staring the medical droid down. I would conquer it. I would. 

I gave the droid a soft kick, and it rocked on its back. My workspace was overlaying with discarded parts for the former resistance, rebellion or whatever it was called at this point. I was just happy to continue crawling through wreckages and scrap heaps in search of parts. A puzzle was also more interesting than the fancy manoeuvres of rebel ships and the pointless debates of the politicians.

"You alright, Sparky?" 

Poe Dameron. Poe _fucking_ Dameron. He was one impulsive, charismatic and narcissistic pilot. I missed the days of missions and battles so that I could have a few moments of peace from his incessant charisma.

"Hey Shel," came the apologetic voice of Finn. I turned around with a grin that didn't feel as forced as it could be. 

"We've got a mission for you, Sparky," Poe leaned a careless hand on my desk. The movement of his hand on the table caused some of my parts to scrape loudly against each other. Finn winced and motioned for the suave pilot to move. Poe rolled his eyes yet stood beside his partner with a crooked smile. 

"A mission, Dameron?" I sighed. "I thought missions were a thing of the past?"

"Come on, Sparky," Poe said. "The resistance needs you to go to Tatooine to look after the outpost there."

I bit my lip. Tatooine was a planet full of wrecks and ship carcasses but also sand. _A lot of sand_. It was dry, and even having an unlimited supply of droids wouldn't distract me from having to live alone and isolated. Sure I didn't enjoy being around people, yet I also didn't like not having the option to be around them.

"What for?" I considered. The base _was_ full of parties, laughter and cheering. Actually, it was deafening. Standing with Poe and Finn in my closed off workspace, I heard singing from down the hall in the main hanger.

"Well," Finn shuffled from foot to foot and glanced at Poe. "There's an outpost there that we need someone stable to... monitor it." He exchanged another strange glance with Poe. 

"And you picked me, a lowly mechanic because?"

"Sparky, you're an inventor, a pilot and a good fighter," Poe said and crossed his arms. "Give yourself some credit. We need someone sensible and considered to head up the small outpost. Those up top have chosen you."

"Yes, you did! Without my consent?!" I laughed. "A great choice."

"It's a promotion! Please think about it. It's a great role. You'll have my eternal gratitude," Poe smiled gesturing to his chest. "Plus you'll have good pay and plenty of space to work."

"But I'll be on a desolate desert planet, Poe!" I shouted. Struggling to contain my bemusement at the idea, I turned back to the stupid droid. I knew in my head that it wasn't a choice. I was going because I was one of the last mechanics with any combat ability left who didn't have a family. I didn't have ties here.

"What about my work here?" I asked angrily. 

"You can take some of it with you," Finn said before giving me a soft pat on my leather-covered shoulder. "We know how much it means to you. You're the only one we can send. We'll give you a small cargo ship to transport some of it."

"We know you love this junk Sparky." Poe nudged something, and it clattered down onto the concrete floor behind me. 

"Dameron, please stop touching my shit," I rubbed my eyes and groaned. He mumbled a soft sorry. What choice did I have? I had no family, no partner, and no ties to the planet except to my friendships built on the resistance that was now no longer needed. The war was over, except for those running away in fear, and now the universe needed to get back on its feet.

"You're sending me cause I'm alone," I stated. 

"You are also the best option we've got," Poe replied sadly. "Of course we'd rather send that guy, Larry cause he keeps messing up the base but it's not an easy task. We're making it sound easier than it is."

"We're sorry to lose you Shel, but we need someone with half a brain out there, and it needs to be someone we can trust. After Rey- **After Rey passed on,** you're the best option we've got." Finn's hand turned from a pat to a tight squeeze. I spun around and enveloped the tall man in a bear hug. 

"Thanks, Finn," I whispered into his collar. I felt the arms of Poe encircle us both. The three of us locked in an awkward teary embrace. I didn't find Poe insufferable at that moment. These were my friends. These were the friendships I had forged after losing everything. Blood and tears stuck us together amid chaos. After Rey. After all the death. We had kept each other alive. Despite everything, we had stayed alive.

I pulled back from the embrace and wiped my face on the cuff of the overalls that stuck out the end of my leather jacket sleeve. The two of them looked misty-eyed. Poe reached out and wrapped an arm around his partner's shoulder. A brief moment of vulnerability from the cocky pilot. They were right for each other. It was nice.

"Oh, Shel, one more thing," Poe said. He had stopped smiling.

* * *

Tatooine was a barren planet. It had a small population for a large world; those unfortunate enough to live in the cities were just as miserable as the farms. The earth was dry and dusty. When I arrived, the suns shone high in the sky, and dry winds blew sand into swirling clouds. Hopefully, there would be no sandstorms during my first few weeks here.

The mission was simple: keep watch over the outpost and ensure any developments were relayed to command as soon as possible. It had been implied that I would have to send regular reports.

I grumbled, swore and then bit my lip as the ship landed in the middle of nowhere. Desert stretched out to meet equally dusty hills, canyons and mountains. There were no rivers here. It was a landscape of parched soil and cracked dried-out mud. Sitting like a small ant hill, near a pen of two animals, was the underground station I was to call home until, well no doubt until I died or someone else came to relieve me. 

The small cargo ship shuddered to a stop before flopping to the ground with a little bump on impact. The two Bantha (horrid and smelly oversized cattle with too much hair and large pale horns) lowed in their small enclosure at the interruption to their routine. I was sure this outpost got minimal visitors.

Gathering the basics off the ship, I headed outside and towards the door. The code I'd been given worked easily yet the door struggled to slide back fully. I made a mental note to fix it later.

The door slid shut behind me, and I dropped my bags on the floor to survey the quarters. The door opened on a small domed white room with a circular skylight. Everything was cream and beige. It was a basic communal space, yet no kitchen was in sight yet. Dragging my bags behind me lazily, I peeked into the other two doors adjoined to the small living space. On my right, I found the sleeping quarters; it held a bunk bed on one side of the room and two twin beds lined against the wall on the other. In the corner, there was a medical unit and the torso of a droid.

Another thing to be fixed.

I dropped my bags on the bottom bunk after seeing the belongings (a grey shirt and padded jacket) were strewn over the made covers of one of the twins. I sucked in a breath and let it go slowly. _My roommate_. 

At the other end of the quarters was a small practical bathroom with a short refresher which had barely any space for even one regular height person. I caught my reflection and quickly pulled my greasy black hair back from my face into a tight bun. I looked terrible after the long flight, but I'd looked worse.Somehow when I fixed a burst gas pipe on the ship in the cockpit during the flight, I had managed to wipe the black oil over my right eyebrow and cheek. I found a grey towel from a shelf above the mirror unit and considered cleaning it. While I wanted to maintain some maturity and dignity, I still put the towel back. A bit of dirt never hurt anybody.

I investigated the other door off the living room with trepidation. I didn't want to meet my roommate - at least not in the first 30 minutes. The other door opened onto a small corridor that led downstairs to a kitchen, and a dining area. I hissed several swearwords as I banged a fist against the doorframe. _They told me there was going to be a workspace,_ I thought to myself. In a rush to find the promised space for my work, I jogged back outside. I whirled around the small outpost and made eye contact with the Bantha.

"Is there a hut or a shed?" I asked them desperately. I leaned against their fence as I surveyed the surrounding grounds.

Then I noticed it. A small lump just a few feet east of the main door. I raced over and found another small door to another underground building. I pushed the same code I had used for the main entrance into this keypad. It beeped with delight, yet it didn't open. I kicked it.

"Just open for fu-"I shouted before trying the code again. It chirped its rejection again. _T_ _here might be a code back in the living quarters_ , I thought angrily, _typical disorganised resistance bullshit_. In defeat, I trudged back to the main building.

My stomach grumbled as soon as the door closed. I had to get food. The kitchen had barely any supplies, but I managed to find some dehydrated vegetables and rice to make something filling. I sat at the beige table and took hearty mouthfuls. My mind drifted to the whereabouts of my roommate; he must be around somewhere. He must have known I was coming. Leaning back against the padded booth seat, I searched the room for some personalisation. He had been here for many months. He had stayed here when no one else would, but clearly, the former resistance needed someone they could trust. They couldn't trust him, but could I trust him?

I finished my meal, tidied up and decided to try to pry the door to the outhouse open. It wasn't the most mature thing to do, but I had scrap to get off the ship as soon as possible before sundown. I took goggles and a simple welding tool as well as my bag of tools which included a hammer.

After trying the code again, I began to hack, saw and pry the door open. It didn't budge. After an hour, I started to lose faith in my ability even to handle technology. A mechanic that couldn't open a door - fantastic! I sighed and found a small crowbar to peel back the control panel. _I could short-circuit it_. The front panel came off quickly, and I found the appropriate wires to try to open the door. I stuck out my tongue in concentration. The wires slipped in my gloved hands, and I tried again.

"What are you doing?" A deep voice asked and cut through my focus. "There isn't anything of value for you to steal in there."

I slipped on the sand as I turned to face the stranger.

"Watch it," the voice said in an amused tone.

I pushed my goggles up to find a sizeable pale hand offering me help. With the setting sun blinding my eyes, I took it gladly. After standing up in the shade of the tall human stranger, I dusted myself off and looked my helper in the face.

I then realised my mistake.

This wasn't a stranger. This was Kylo Ren.


	2. Chapter 2

Here he was, Kylo Ren. 

He stood tall and stared down at me with curious eyes. The faint trace of scar stretched across the right side of his face. His black silhouette had been replaced with a grey long-sleeved top, and dark trousers and brown leather boots. He looked ready to scavenge the desolate Tatooine landscape. His black hair fell just below his ear and grazed a grey scarf that was covering his jaw. Instead of sickly pale skin, his face was tanned from the Tatooine sun. He held gloves in his other hand and the hand, he had offered me, fell to his side.

My eyes darted. There was lightsaber on his belt. My throat went dry, and my skin prickled despite the heat of the desert.

Here stood the man who represented every evil thing I knew—the man who killed my friends. Every problem, every battle, and every loss, I had faced had been because of him.

I had to remind myself that Kylo Ren was now Ben Solo and my new job was to keep an eye on him. They trusted me to do this.

Yet the lightsaber on his belt didn’t comfort me. It scared me. He could kill me. His hands had forced my friends to tell resistance secrets; he had watched the order abduct and kill thousands if not more. His clean appearance didn’t hide the blood that stained every inch of him. I had seen him in battle; in the distance with that black cloak flowing in the wind as he raised that same hand to throw someone out of the way. His red lightsaber had cut through men like they were bags of sand – disposable.

Despite trying to find some way in my mind to break the silence, I just stared at him. 

“I guess you must be from the resistance?” he offered, and I simply nodded. My voice failed me. _Black gloved hands reached for my throat - I could feel them there._ My imagination was running wild; I coughed and tried to mask my panic.

Squinting in the sunlight, he finally moved closer to the smaller building. His arm reached out towards me. I flinched and remembered that I had left my pistol on the ship. I was such a great fighter that I had forgot my weapon. The entirety of my body recoiled from him. He froze, but then he slowly reached for the panel. He pushed the panel back on and entered a different code. The door slid open.

“I’ll get your bags from the ship,” he stated. Clenching my hands into fists, I willed my body to move. I then realised I had been holding a thick screwdriver in one hand. I must have picked it up when he walked towards me on instinct. My teeth ached as I unclenched my jaw. _Relax_. 

I went into the new building. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. The room was domed like the living space in the main building, yet it seemed to stretch further. It may have been used as a storage room for supplies. Against one wall, I saw a bench as well as some tools covered by a tarp. I saw the room ripple into a workspace that was occupied by discarded droids, parts from ships and various pieces of technology that desperately needed to be fixed. It was going to take a lot of work, but I saw it. I smiled then heard the dragging of material on the sand. My smile vanished.

Ben brought a large metal crate from the ship into the room. He put it down next to the bench.

“It must have been a long journey, so maybe you should go rest,” Ben said then he stopped next to me. “I brought this.” I looked up as he drew out my pistol from his belt.

“I got it from the ship. You’ll probably feel safer with it. I’ll get the rest of your bags.” I took the offered grip, and the pistol felt right in my hand. I held it for a moment then met Ben’s eyes. In shame, I put the gun into my belt. He walked out of the room as if he hadn’t handed me a gun. The wind blew around the small building, and I braced myself to venture back to the other building.

Ben was in the ship; a thought that should have left me more concerned, but I felt numb. He may have been my enemy, yet he was right. My heavy limbs needed to rest. 

* * *

The bottom bunk wasn’t comfortable.

The mattress was not fresh; it seemed like many people had slept on the bunk over the last 20 years, so it was lopsided and managed to cave in the middle at the same time. It explained my roommate’s choice of bed – the twin bed looked substantial and less bumpy. Yet I’d settled for this and I refused to move after pretending to sleep for 2 hours. Ben hadn’t come near the sleeping quarters, and I felt thankful for the respite.

Sleep wasn’t coming. My feet swung off the bunk and hit the concrete floor. I looked over at Kylo's bed - I mean Ben's bed - and noted his lightsaber was on top of some discarded clothes. He must have come in at some point, and I hadn't noticed. A groan escaped my lips, and I pushed the anxiety back down inside of me. I couldn't be frightened the whole time because I didn't know how long I was going to be here. Pulling on a long beige shirt and pistol holster, I then walked to the kitchen. Ben wasn’t in the living space, so when I found him, in the booth in the kitchen with his eyes closed, slumped back. I knew then he was asleep.

The kitchen wasn’t well-stocked, but it had a modest collection of fresh herbs and teas. I carefully found some calming tea in the kitchen and tried to heat it quickly without waking him. In this state he didn’t look so threatening – he was just a man. Yet when I looked at him, pictured him in his black robes and helmet, a stone formed in my stomach. A scar ached in my shoulder from the blaster shot I had received at one of the resistance’s many battles and missions. I pushed at it absently and blew on my tea to cool it down. _Focus on what is essential_. _Breathe_. I stood at the unit, blowing on my tea and waiting for something.

I decided to sit and took off my belt to lay it on the table between us. The motion woke Ben up, and he looked at me. He was tired. We sat for a while, just staring at each other. It was a stand-off, and I half-expected him to reach for my holster on the table. Yet he had left his lightsaber in our quarters which would be odd for an evil sith to do if they wanted to kill me. _He doesn't need it to kill you_ , my brain reminded me. I gulped.

“What do you want to know?” he asked as if sensing my reluctance to be near him. 

“Nothing,” I said softly and honestly. I couldn't hear more about what he had done; I couldn't add to my already many fears about him. Ben's eyebrows raised, but otherwise, he seemed the same – calm, collected.

“Can we just sit?” I asked. “Can we just sit and not talk about all the messed-up stuff on the first day?”

He nodded and sat up. A trace of a smile ghosted over his lips. I always forgot how young he was. It just suited the big bad leader of the First Order to be a slimy older man. Instead, he almost looked like a boy. He had been a boy in a mask. 

“Do you want tea?” I motioned to my cup. He shook his head. There went my attempt to entertain some sort of normality with Ben Solo.

“How long will you be here for?” He asked and seemed genuinely interested. Then again if I had to be stuck with a member of the resistance that still hated me on some level, I would also be trying to figure out a game plan.

“As long as they want me to be here,” I replied casually. A thought dawned on me. “Shit, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Shel Thryrtinos, a mechanic and former resistance fighter.” I didn’t offer a handshake; I kept myself tightly on my side of the booth.

“You know me but call me Ben,” He sighed, and it was the first time I had heard him seem audibly uncomfortable. “Do you mind if I call you by Shel?” His question seemed dumb on the face of it, but then I realised that some of the other rebels wouldn’t want to give him the informality. Would you want your enemy to call you by your first name?

“Shel is fine,” I sipped my tea and looked everywhere but him. The kitchen lights flickered as the heating came on. At night Tatooine was cold enough to warrant some temperature regulation. I was thankful for the distant hum of the heating unit.

“I can leave if you want,” Ben said. “I can sleep in the outbuilding-“ He shifted in his seat and clasped his hands together. There was a slight tremor to his hands. Letting him sleep outside was not going to be helpful when I had to keep an eye on him. I also did not want him touching my stuff. 

“No!” I said too loudly. “No.” I coughed. “I mean I’m going to use that space… it’s part of my agreement with the higher-ups. I come out to the middle of nowhere and work in this crappy outpost, but I get a workspace.” I almost asked him if that was okay; like he would have any say on what happens on resistance property.

“A workspace?” He leaned forward. Instinctively, I leaned back. He grimaced briefly, but his face returned to calm and collected pretty quickly.

“I’m a mechanic,” I said. “I build and fix things.”

“That’s good,” he smiled. “There’s a droid in the sleeping quarters for the medical unit that needs fixing. I tried, but those droids can be quite tricky.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” I nodded. “When I was at the base, I spent all of my time fixing medical droids so it should be fine.” Suppose we don’t include the one that I abandoned because it refused to be fixed. I played with the edges of my cup and focused all of my attention there. I struggled to meet his eyes. 

There was an awkward pause, and I yawned as I started to feel the effects of the tea.

“Do you want to talk about living arrangements?” Ben tried to fill in the silence.

“What?” I stuttered suddenly remembering we would be living in isolation with each other for a very long time.

“Who sleeps where in the quarters, when you get up, meals,” he shrugged. “That kind of thing.”

“Uhm, I guess. I’m happy with the sleeping arrangements as is.” I rubbed my chin in thought.

“You want to stay in the bunk?” he asked, surprised.

“Yep,” I replied. I wasn’t about to tell Ben that I didn’t want to sleep in the bed that met the end of his. I had thought about having his feet near my head, or worse his head too close to mine.

“Right,” I continued. “I get up at 6 am, I always get showered at that time. Is that a problem?”

“No,” he said. “I get up at 6 am too, but I use the main room. I meditate for an hour. We won’t get in each other’s way until breakfast.”

“Right.” I looked at the pistol on the tabled between us. “Do you mind?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I understand your concern.”

The silence washed over us, and I sucked in a heavy breath.

“Here’s the thing,” I said quickly. “We’re going to live together for the foreseeable future - probably until you leave. I don’t want this to be horrible… and I want to give you a chance for her. **But** I just can’t get past who you are right this second, and it might not be quick or easy. But for her, I’m going to try.”

The speech hung in the air. We both know I was referring to Rey; the Rey who had given her life so we all could live - so he could live. Ben's head fell forward. He rubbed his forehead and obscured his face from my view. 

“I understand,” he whispered. “I would appreciate the chance.”

I waited a moment, expecting a sorry or defence of his new personality. It didn’t come. I grabbed my pistol, put away my cup and stood in the doorway.

“You can sleep in the twin in the sleeping quarters,” I stated. “But if you try anything, I will shoot you.”

With that, I walked back up into the sleeping quarters. The door slid closed behind me, and I stared at the room. It was tight space despite the beds. This situation was going to be uncomfortable no matter what and I just had to make the best of things. I got back into bed. Putting my holster against the inner wall of the bunk, I hoped I didn't have to use it. The lights went out after a couple of minutes, but I was awake for a long time after that – just waiting for Ben to come to bed. I couldn’t fight him if I was asleep. The thought repeated in my mind then suddenly it dawned on me: I couldn’t fight him even awake; he was force-user. Maybe he wasn’t a sith anymore, but he had been. He could overpower me or take me by surprise. Or pry his way into my head.

I scrunched my eyes shut and willed myself to stop panicking.

Somehow, I drifted off, and when I woke up in the morning, Ben’s bed was still made. He hadn’t come back to the sleeping quarters.


	3. Chapter 3

_A shot flew past my head. I struggled to get up to standing and grabbed my blaster. The weapon was bulky, and when held to shoot, it pushed against my shoulder. Scrambling across the concrete, I tried to reach the ship that sat on the outskirts of the market. The battle was escalating enough for me to recognise the imminent defeat of our fighters._

_My legs carried me through the carnage. Resistance fighters fell around me, into me. Some even pushed me out of my path._

_A stormtrooper tackled and grabbed my hair. I screamed, then hit the trooper with the end of my blaster. He fell back, and I fired. I shot him and watched his body drop in slow motion._

_The first hit was cold. A laser should have scalded and burnt my skin. I looked down at the wound, blood trickling out of a gash on my arm. The fabric around it singed. The next hit was…_

_Agony. The tears were hot on my face as I crawled away from the march of boots. Someone grabbed me, flipped me over and stuck a blaster in my face. I screamed._

* * *

My forehead smacked against the roof of my bunk. I hissed in pain and rubbed my forehead as I pulled myself out of the cramped bed. I had shot up out of that nightmare and straight into the frame of the bed. I was thankful I didn’t have full-blown night terrors I ran my hands down my face and tried to forget about the memory that had morphed into my nightmare. As I had come to expect, Ben wasn’t in the sleeping quarters. He would already be meditating in the main room and frozen in a state of eerie calm that unsettled me greatly. The first week had passed slowly. The second week we fell into a steady rhythm of avoiding each other and working around my obsessive mechanic work and his simple plain life. The third week had been the start of the issues.

I wanted to sleep more and more; my nightmares were becoming more vivid; I just wanted to punch that stupid man in the face. I had started to daydream about lunging at him across the dining table, putting my hands on his throat and watching him struggle. I wanted to see him fight for his life, but I kept my hands focused on the cutlery, and I devoured my meals to avoid small talk. I also knew he was probably starting to sense these dark thoughts from me as he avoided me more and more. When I walked into a room, he would leave if he wasn’t meditating. Sometimes he would even leave mid-meditation.

I grimaced and pushed myself to stand. The refresher was cold on my skin. I needed to prepare myself for heading into the nearest city with him.

I let the water make me fresh and new before washing my hair with the blandest shampoo. Going into the city meant we might be able to get some more delightful toiletries. I wasn’t expecting the same quality of products that you could find with the rich on Corellia; when I was still a teenager, I got to try some after one of the kids I would run with had broken into a high-class suite in the centre of town. I wasn’t expecting that. I expected something basic with some fragrance. Hopefully.

Drying myself after the shower, I quickly pulled on a basic blue mechanics jumpsuit and a loose white vest underneath. I shoved my socked feet into my short black leather boots before standing at the door. I took a deep breath, pressed the button, and the door slid open to reveal a meditating Ben.

When he was meditating, he appeared so tranquil that I found myself jealous. The only time I felt anything like that level of calm, I was beating the crap out of a broken piece of machinery that refused to give me the answers. When I was entranced in the puzzle of a simple malfunction, a faulty circuit or a simple adjustment, I was at peace the only way I knew how.

After making a quick breakfast and avoiding spending too much time with Ben, I quietly walked out the door and onto the serene landscape of Tatooine. Its sand had initially driven me insane but had now grown on me. It was empty, open and vast. In that vastness, I was alone, which was better than being inside with Ben. The ship opened to me with a clunk and a creaking; it signalled that something was being worn down by the sand winds. It was only just 7 am here on Tatooine, but I knew that Poe might still be up or at least not asleep yet back on the main base. I sat down in the pilot’s seat and flicked some switches. Behind me, a screen flickered on. I turned to it and began putting in the long passcode used for encrypted transmissions. As soon as the call went out, someone in the base picked up.

“Hello, this is Thryrtinos checking in with General Dameron, or General Finn,” I said firmly.

“Please hold,” The curt voice replied. “The General is currently… Uhm busy.”

I rolled my eyes and tried not to chuckle. It was kind of late, but Poe was probably busy because he and Finn had been given around 5 minutes alone.

“Tell him that it’s urgent and for his ears only,” I smirked. The curt voice apologised profusely, and I listened to the static left behind.

There was a click then Poe’s sarcastic tones quipped: “Sparky, I will kill you when I see you again.”

“Nice to hear from you too,” I chuckled.

“Fine, what is it? And it better be urgent,” he replied. “I have a very handsome general to get back to, and I am very impatient to return.”

“I’m heading to Mos Eisley today to collect supplies,” I grimaced. “I just want to make triple sure you sent the credits to the bank.”

“Of course, I sent them to the bank,” he said. “I also made sure that you have more than enough for maybe some alcohol like cider, or whisky? Just something to take the edge off.”

“Ha! It’s easy to be the funny guy when you’re sitting nice and comfy back there with your hunky general,” I shouted. “While I’m sitting here with the former leader of the first order who is trying to find himself!”

“Take it easy.” There was a sigh. “Sparky, you can do this. Seriously it’s not that hard.” I heard the uncertainty in his voice.

“If it’s so easy, Dameron, why don’t you come and have tea with him?!”

Poe was quiet.

“Dameron, I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered into the mic. “He, what he did… Poe.” The words stuttered in my mouth and stalled.

“I know,” Poe said. “You will do this.”

“Dameron, you need to send someone,” I pleaded. “Even just for a visit.”

Poe laughed. “I never thought you would say you needed someone to visit, Sparky.”

“Well people change,” I replied jokingly but it came out harsh and curt. “Sorry I just needed you to know that I’m struggling out here.”

“And what about… Ren?” Poe asked sincerely and brought us back to the mission at hand.

“He’s fine,” I stated. “He mainly meditates and attends to the Banthas if they need it. He’s either reading or meditating or training… or trying to make my meals.”

“Wait, he makes your meals?” Poe sounded shocked.

“I think he wants me to be less uptight. We are living together. The outpost isn’t exactly large enough for us to avoid each other.”

“But somehow you haven’t shot him yet? I should give you a medal for patience.”

“I do hide in the shitty workspace you promised me for the majority of the day,” I chuckled.

“So, he’s just meditating?”

“Yep,” I said and began to pick at a flaking piece of electrical tape next to the screen.

“Is he coming to Mos Eisley with you?”

“Yes,” I replied. “He probably needs supplies too.”

“Well, don’t let him get out of your sight,” Poe ordered. “Watch who he talks to, where he wants to go and stay with him at all times.”

“I will,” I smiled. “Say hello to General Finn for me. Enjoy your rest time, General Dameron.”

“I will,” Poe laughed. “Take care, Sparky. Keep me in the loop.”

The call ended, and I was back in the emptiness that is Tatooine. I was alone again. Throwing myself back down into the pilot’s chair, I stared at the horizon as the suns burned orange on the land in front of me. The wind ripped the dust and sand; it swirled in front of the ship and then burst before disappearing. Then I felt it.

Life went on. I was still here.

I pushed off the dashboard and jogged back to the main building.

Ben had stopped meditating and was about to head back to the sleeping quarters. He paused and gave me a strange look before he turned to disappear into the room.

“Hey,” I said as I grabbed his arm. He stopped. We both looked down at my hand, unwelcome on his arm. I had touched him. It dropped from his sleeve and came back to my side. “Can we head to Mos Eisley in the next hour?”

“Sure,” he replied, still confused by my sudden outburst. “Are you okay?”

I nodded and smiled, which seemed to confuse him more. I was trying to be better.

“Have you made a list of what we need?” I asked and struggled against the urge to step back. The ache to step away from him was still strong, but I refused to give in.

“Uh.” He blinked. “I can make a list.”

“Great,” I said. “Thanks.” The word tasted bitter and unnatural. I pushed through it. “I’ll be in my workspace when you’re ready.” The smile was still frozen on my face, and I guessed I must have looked unhinged to him after weeks of grimaces and blank stares.

“Yeah,” he said simply. He stood in the doorway unmoving and watched me. I smiled again and gestured to the sleeping quarters.

“I need my stuff.” I tried to keep smiling. He mumbled an apology and moved back to let me through. I nipped into the room and grabbed my holster, as well as a bag for the trip. I wasn’t going to come back into the main building before we left for Mos Eisley, so I made sure I had everything. When I finished, he was still standing by the door. He watched me. I squeezed past and shouted back: “See you in a bit.”

Reaching the sanctity of my workshop, I collapsed on a stool by the bench. There was screaming inside my skull, but I pushed it down. I needed to just get over this or at least be pleasant so we could co-exist without my daydreams of smothering him. We couldn’t keep walking on eggshells around each other.

I rested my elbows on the bench and stared straight ahead. Eventually, my mind turned to the small droid I had designed which laid there in pieces. Without thinking, I was tinkering with the little creature. I let myself get lost in the circuits and wires for a moment. The machinery felt like home underneath my fingertips; soft and crisp. I pushed pieces back together and found it clicking into place. It wouldn’t hold, and it fell apart. Finding screws and finding my welding tool, I began to put it together again. The droid was tiny, you could say cute. A little stick figure could hold at most a small wrench. I laughed at its little face constructed from LEDs and welded metal. It was cute. Standing on thin legs, it looked at me with dead eyes.

I laughed again. A cough interrupted my brief moment of joy.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I’m ready to go,” Ben said. He stood in front of the closed door. I hadn’t heard him come in.

“It’s fine,” I replied and grabbed my bag. “Not a problem.”

“We can wait-” he started, but I held up a hand.

“No,” I said too quickly and walked past him. The landspeeder had been brought around from the back of the building. It usually sat there covered in a large tarp and deactivated so it couldn’t be pushed around by the wind. I dumped my bags in the storage compartment and looked behind me at Ben. His face was blank, and he pulled up his scarf, which covered his mouth and nose. There was less to work with than usual.

“I’m driving.” It wasn’t a question or an order. I was driving. He shrugged and climbed into the passenger seat. Eager for the brief return to normality, I jumped into the driver’s seat and turned it on. I grinned then noticed Ben watching me. The smile dropped; I focused on driving and not the growing urge to take off at break-neck speed. The landspeeder growled as I started to move.

It picked up speed, and I felt my hair blow out behind me before whipping at my face. I smiled as the landscape sped past us.

“Woo!” I shouted as I slapped the steering wheel happily. I felt like a child again—just pure exhilaration. I caught Ben’s concerned gaze and tried to calm down. “Sorry,” I smirked without slowing down. “Love a landspeeder!” I shouted happily. My grip on the steering wheel tightened to the point where my knuckles were pale.

“It’s okay,” he shouted through his scarf. He leaned back in the seat and gripped the side of the speeder.

I bit my lip and increased the speed again. The force of the increase pushed our heads back for a second before we adjusted. I laughed, and for a moment, I heard a chuckle from Ben.

“Maybe don’t burn all of our fuel?” Ben suggested. He was right, and we couldn’t make it to the city at this speed safely. I gradually decreased the acceleration to an acceptable speed. I glanced at him and couldn’t read him.

“Sorry,” I smiled and waited for him to reply, but he didn’t.

I just tried to focus on making it to Mos Eisley.


	4. Chapter 4

Mos Eisley was as beige and dusty as the rest of Tatooine. The dark beige of the city was broken up by orange doors and small industrial units, including antennas and generators. Taller buildings hugged smaller ones and the larger hangers for ships seemed to fade into the horizon from some angles. A gentle hum was behind the constant noise of people, droids and vehicles. This wasn’t my first trip to the planet, and it was certainly not my first trip to Mos Eisley. I had been to the Cantina on several information retrieval missions; they had just been stop-overs, but I still knew my way around the city without help. You didn’t want to ask for a guide in Mos Eisley because you could end up somewhere you didn’t want to be and with some pretty nasty people.

I pulled the landspeeder into a space inside the perimeter. Coming to a stop slowly, the vehicle went silent. Ben shifted in the passenger seat before jumping out and opening the storage compartment.

“What’s the priority for you?” I asked as I gingerly stepped down onto the dusty road and glanced around. Ben pulled his scarf into a hood, adjusted the front, so it still covered the lower half of his face and put his backpack over one shoulder. He looked pretty casual: dark trousers, brown boots that reached his shins, a pale undershirt and a navy jacket. He had a light brown holster tied to his leg from his belt. In the holster was a modified heavy blaster pistol. There was no lightsaber this time, or at least anywhere I could see – hopefully he had left it at home.

“Basic supplies – food, fuel and basic stuff,” he said, waving his hand away. He didn’t seem focused. His eyes kept darting around us.

“Okay,” I nodded. “I need to go to the bank. I had credits transferred.” I felt something move behind me. It was just a Jawa coming to offer me some deal on the speeder. I waved them away and spoke the few words I knew in Jawa Trade Talk. One phrase was just _Hands off_. The Jawa mumbled a few ‘okays’ before leaving us alone.

Ben glanced at me then back to the road.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said. “You speak Jawa?”

I rolled my eyes and walked around to the storage compartment. “I’m a mechanic who buys droids. Of course, I speak some of it just for trade.” I leaned past him and fished out my bag. The satchel slipped over my shoulder. Ben stared at me, which was unnerving as half of his face was now covered.

“What?” I asked again, getting annoyed. “You never met someone who can speak another language or something? Oh right, you must have had people do that for you.”

The jibe slipped out and I grimaced. I didn't mean to be short with Ben yet the pre-event nerves were making me on edge. I glanced at him but he looked fine. 

“No,” he stated. “I just didn’t take you as someone who wanted to talk to people.”

“Right because I like to be alone in my weird little den of droids, I don’t seem like the diplomatic type? Or someone who can mediate?”

“No,” he struggled for words. “I’m just – surprised.”

“Okay,” I stared at him before looking back at the bustling road ahead. “Let’s get to the bank.”

We passed stalls trying to flog spare parts and fabrics. Some even tried to sell used mechanical prosthetics; I had a hard time believing they hadn’t been taken by force. Hearing Poe’s orders in my head, I kept glancing at Ben. He didn’t seem like someone who was suddenly going to make a break for it. It seemed unlikely; after all, he had flown himself to this planet in the first place, so why would he leave?

Ben kept his face covered despite the heat. It wasn’t that unusual for people in Mos Eisley to protect their identity. Mos Eisley was a shady place with criminal activity. I considered how likely it would be that he could be recognised. In the First Order, he was rarely seen without his mask, yet someone must have seen him once, especially towards the end of the war.

 _That’s a bit cautious for a former sith,_ I thought. _He must really not want to be recognised._

As we walked, a mercenary bumped into Ben. I expected it to make a little bit of infamous Kylo Ren slip back out. I kept anticipating just one tantrum. Instead, Ben shrugged it off and kept walking. Neither he nor the mercenary acknowledged the accident.

We came up to the bank, and I motioned for Ben to go first. He hesitated, but when I refused to move, he relented. We entered the quiet room that served as a basic bank system. There was a teller who stood behind a large counter, and there was a service station rigged up on the left wall. I stepped up to the station and entered the digits and information Poe had told me. It beeped and began to offer me a variety of options.

There was a cough.

“If you take out any credits, I must hand them to you, it’s a new policy,” the Arconan teller thundered before placing a blaster on the counter. I grimaced. Ben was standing against the other wall, and the teller kept glancing at him.

“Yes,” I sighed. “Thank you.” I grabbed Ben by his sleeve and pulled him over to the station. “Look less suspicious and also tell me how much we need.” I showed him the screen, and he pointed to one of the options presented. He didn’t move back to the other side of the room but remained just behind me, a guarding shadow. I clicked the option just above Ben’s suggestion and grimaced when the screen flashed the notice reminding that I had to go to the teller. Ben’s looming presence may have set off the legitimate paranoia of a bank teller who was used to dealing with criminals.

I smiled widely and turned to the Arconan. Their green eyes observed me as they fingered the grip of the blaster.

“Can I please have my credits?” I asked.

“Identification number,” the teller smiled back at me. I told him the same account number Poe had given me.

“Anra Sione?”

I nodded, hopefully.

“Identification?” the teller asked, still smiling.

I silently swore and began digging through my bag to find my identification number for the account. I didn’t have an ID or anything with photographic evidence of my ownership of the account and that name. Before my hand could close around the data chip in my bag, Ben stepped forward.

“You don’t need her identification, she is Anra Sione,” Ben said. As I was about to tell him to shut up, the Arconan repeated the words back to him in a daze. Dread flooded my senses. He had used the force on the teller.

The teller proceeded to process the account on Ben’s orders, and then they handed me the credits. I tried to thank them, but the words stuck in my throat. When we got outside, I turned to Ben.

“Do not do that without warning me,” I said. I stared at the sky and willed the panic to subside. The act was something I hadn’t witnessed before, but I knew from Finn that Rey had done it before. Yet it seemed unnatural and cruel.

“Okay,” Ben said. “But it would be a bit strange to tell the person before I used the force on them. Don’t you think?” There was a bitter edge to his voice.

I should have been thankful. Ben had helped. If that Arconan had realised I didn’t have any real photo identification, then I could have been in trouble; they probably would have asked for a bribe or tried something. Sure, the war was technically over, and the resistance was now the victor. However, it didn’t mean that I was safe and going by a pseudonym was the only way to guarantee my safety, especially when stuck with a man that could be hated by half the galaxy. I made a note that I would have to ask Poe to send me information about a friendly forger to fabricate some proof for later visits to the city.

Ben stood next to me. His eyebrows were neutral, and his face seemed calm. Yet the scarf was still hiding him from view.

“Thank you, though,” I muttered. Ben let out a slow exhale.

“No problem,” he replied and turned back to the road.

The road thrummed with mercenaries, traders, travellers, and more. It was over-crowded and noisy; traders shouted at customers in the angry back and forth of haggling. Ben stopped into some shops, and stalls to get food. He picked up a variety of basics: tinned and dehydrated food. Ben picked them out, and I paid the vendor whilst entertaining the necessary small talk. Soon, I recognised the familiar plain exterior of the Mos Eisley Cantina, which looked like nearly every other building in the city. ‘ _Cantina_ ’ was written in Galactic Basic on a small sign above the door. While we hadn’t found toiletries, I did think about whisky. The outpost was far away enough that it could be another month or so before we came back to the city, so a drink was suddenly a great idea.

“Do you fancy a drink?” I asked Ben and gestured to the Cantina. Laughing customers were coming out of the door. They swayed then walked towards the market again.

“No,” he said and adjusted his pack. “I would prefer we didn’t.” His tone was sharp.

“Okay,” I sucked in a breath and continued. “Well, I need to buy something to drink for back at the station.”

He stopped before facing me. Shadows covered his eyes despite the strong sunlight. Yet I could see a glint of something angry.

“We’ll pick some up at the next stall if you’re so desperate.” Judgment slipped out around his reply.

“Fine.” The road continued on around us. With the sun beating down on me, I lifted my hand to hide my eyes. I studied him with confusion. Despite his cold tone, Ben seemed scared, wary. I didn’t see the first order in his face. I couldn’t see the coldness that had been in his voice just the traces of fear.

I urged him forward, and we kept walking.

Ben signalled to stop at another shop. It looked like a droid shop. Discarded bodies were strewn around the entrance as we walked in. I assumed he thought the shop would be of interest to me. It was a strange attempt at being considerate.

We moved around the shop slowly. Ben trailed behind me before breaking off to examine a broken BB unit.

“No touching or you buy it,” came a disgruntled voice. My eyebrow raised. The owner was sitting behind a desk. He looked at us through a magnifier that was perched on his desk. Ben put the parts of the BB unit back down and raised his hands to show he was not touching anything else.

“No hoods either,” the owner said and stared at Ben pointedly. I motioned for him to lower his hood. Ben sighed but relented. We wandered around the shop carefully. I found a spare part that could work for several of the droids back at the station. I picked it up and examined it.

“How much?”

“1000 credits.” The owner replied gruffly. He pushed off of his seat and looked at the part in my hand. He was young, younger than his voice suggested. I placed him in his mid-thirties with the start of greying hair. As he got closer, he looked at Ben.

“Do I know you?” The owner stared at him. I noticed then the blaster on his belt.

“No,” Ben replied.

“Let me see your face,” the owner ordered, and his hand hovered over his blaster. Ben’s hands clenched by his sides. He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times before he slowly lifted them up to move his scarf down. His eyes were black. Brows furrowed.

I grabbed Ben’s arm.

“No,” I jumped in. “He’s -” I looked at Ben wincing. “Seriously injured. It’s a mess under there. It’s really best if he keeps the scarf on.” I laughed, found the credits and tried to offer it to the owner. The owner grabbed the credits from my hand, greedily. He scowled at Ben.

“It must have been really bad, pretty boy,” the owner said. “To ruin a nice face like yours. It’s a pity about that scar.” The owner looked at the top half of Ben’s face thoroughly again. “I could swear, I know you from somewhere.”

“Ha! Well, this is the first time he’s been off Corellia, so that would be hard,” I laughed and hoped the act was paying off. “This guy was stuck there for his whole life.”

“Right,” the owner grimaced at my performance and began counting the credits. Confirming I had given the right amount of the credits, we left. 

Outside, Ben tried to walk ahead but I wanted to slow him down. Standing at five foot seven, my legs were not as long as his and I weren’t about to jog after the former supreme leader.

“Are you okay?” I asked. If Poe could see me now – asking the enemy if his ego had been bruised by the encounter.

“I’m fine,” his tone was sharp again.

“At least we know you were right about the cantina,” I tried to joke. “That could have been awkward and probably would have involved a lot more blasters.”

Ben remained serious. “Can we just finish this trip?”

I let him guide me through stalls and shops until he pointed out one in particular. I had been here before, but I wasn’t exactly going to start arguing with the already on-edge Ben.

It was a cramped room with an eager trader who was pleasant in comparison to our last experience. The trader showed Ben and me bottles, packages and bars of soap. I glanced at Ben, who shrugged then tried to pick up the blandest bottle of shampoo. Rolling my eyes, I picked out another bottle which smelled of musk and vanilla. I picked out a few cheaper options that would keep us stocked for months. I couldn’t stop smiling and handed the trader the credits for the bottles we had chosen. My bag was heavy from our purchases. The last stop was whisky which Ben found in another shop just off the main road.

The landspeeder was in one piece when we returned. My attempt at Jawa had scared them off from prying bits of metal from the sides of our vehicle.

“Do you want to drive?” I gestured to the driver’s seat. Ben shrugged yet was already around at that side. The passenger seat was less comfortable than the driver’s seat because there was little for me to brace against except the side of the speeder. Similar to my driving style, Ben took off at speed. The speed pushed back his hood, so his scarf was the only thing left in place. We pulled in to get fuel on the outskirts of Mos Eisley and Ben let the service droid fill the speeder.

On the way back to the station, I let myself slump into the seat despite the speed of the vehicle. My mind raced with the thought of that owner who thought he knew Ben. He must have faced this alone before on his trips to the city for supplies. The idea of him struggling to navigate the city at an above-normal level of cautious was tiring. He was technically a criminal but so were many of Mos Eisley’s inhabitants. My eyes wandered to him as he focused on driving. He was just a man. That was the bit that kept tripping me up; it made my resentment slip and my hatred dwindle. In the weeks inside the station, he was quiet and patient. Where was the man who could rip up a console in rage? Where was the man who cracked Poe Dameron’s mind open with the force?

I couldn’t see him anymore. Maybe there was something wrong with me.

“Stop it,” Ben shouted over the speeder’s noise.

“What?”

“Thinking,” he said simply. I laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

The day I woke up in a cold sweat, I found myself being watched.

I had sat up out of another dream. Images of red and snow and broken metal stained my eyes, and I wiped at them eagerly. The nightmares came and went. Sometimes I could sleep soundly, but most of the time, I felt them on a detached level.

Blood on my hands, blood on their hands. War wasn’t clean cut. I was on the _good_ side, but I did terrible things in the name of the heroes. No one was clean. I felt it in my chest. My hand was on the blaster, and the shot that I fired at point-blank range had cracked a crisp white helmet—another officer’s cap on the ground.

I could say I was okay if someone asked, but Ben didn’t ask, and I was glad. Finn would have insisted on some heart-to-heart if he was there. Poe would have given me that knowing look then smiled and tried to force me out for a drink.

Yet this time I woke up from another nightmare, Ben was watching me in silence.

I looked up through my fingers that I dragged down my face. Sitting on the bed opposite me, he was leaning forward onto his knees. His hazel eyes studied me.

When he realised that I could see him, he got up and stood in the doorway. His back faced me, and his shoulders rose then fell in slow, purposeful breaths. I matched them, and my posture relaxed. I swung my feet off the bed.

We said nothing.

He left without turning around.

After getting breakfast, I came outside. I was surprised to find Ben with the Bantha. He seemed to be fixing a broken piece of the fence near the main building. The automatic trough of water next to him refilled steadily, and the Bantha grumbled at the other end of the enclosure. They had tried to move as far aware of the sound of metal on metal as possible.

“Morning,” Ben stopped and then stood to acknowledge me. There was an odd formality to the process. The fun Ben who had driven the speeder at ridiculous speed was gone. Now we returned to mutual awkwardness.

“Um, yeah, morning,” I replied and tightened the shawl around me. I shifted from foot to foot and squinted at the Bantha. Well, this was awkward.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up this morning,” I said. “Sometimes, I shout and –”

“It’s fine,” he cut me off and crouched again to focus on his work on fixing a broken part of the metal fence. His response was clipped and defensive.

I stepped closer to the fence and stared off at the Bantha. The hulking, hairy creatures were swaying slightly as if in a trance. The images were stuck in my mind despite the scenery and the open air. Despite myself, I wanted to say the unspeakable out loud, and the last person I would have thought to tell was Ben. Maybe speaking about it would give me an idea of how much _this_ Ben had changed. Yet I decided to keep my mouth shut.

I noticed my welding tool in his gloved hands. On instinct, I vaulted over the fence and grabbed it back.

“This is **my** tool,” I said incredibly. He had been in my workroom; I glanced over at the small outhouse and pouted. After pushing the goggles up from his face, Ben stared at me. I thought I saw the hint of a smile. He was amused again, just like the first time we met. I grimaced more.

“I’m just fixing the fence,” Ben replied. “I didn’t think you would mind.”

“Still it’s my tool,” I laughed in disbelief. My bare hand tightened around the tool. “If I took, say your lightsaber, wouldn’t you be annoyed?”

The question took him by surprise and then made him chuckle. “I guess I understand what you mean.”

“Okay, I’ll let you do it,” he pulled the gloves off of his hands and offered them to me. I stared down at his bare hands. I realised then I had barely ever seen his hands bare or maybe I’d forced myself to imagine him in his old uniform. It was easier to picture him covered from neck to toe in black.

For the briefest second, as I reached out for them stubbornly, I felt his skin against my fingertips. Ben flinched away then tried to hide whatever it was that had caused him to react so quickly.

The gloves felt heavy on my hands as I pulled them on. I gestured for him to give me the goggles too. Making sure not to touch me this time, he handed them over. I crouched and continued to weld the new piece of metal to the hole in the fence. The metal singed with orange before it returned to a scar of white indicating the repair. Standing, I realised that Ben had climbed over the fence.

“Was my welding that bad?” I smiled then let the smile drop. A serious look had slid over his face as he stared out at the landscape.

“I just didn’t want to crowd you,” he shrugged.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?” I asked then thought about whether we were at that stage of co-existence yet.

Ben smiled sadly then finally looked back from the landscape at me. “What were you dreaming about?”

“Do you want the honest answer? Five minutes ago, you were telling me it was fine,” I straightened and removed the goggles.

“I’m not sure,” he said quietly.

“I was dreaming about a battle,” I held the goggles out like an olive branch.

Ben wiped a hand over his eyes and stared ahead.

“Specifically, I was dreaming about the time I shot one of your troopers in the head,” I whispered it with regret.

At that, Ben’s head shot up. I tried to guess what he was thinking, but his eyes were dark and clouded. He had braced himself against the post of the fence, and his fists were clenched.

“I dream about it a lot,” I continued. “Dream isn’t the right word. I mean I re-live it in agonising detail. We never talked about that stuff on the base properly, and I guess we all have these sorts of nightmares now.”

There was a pause. Grumbling from the Banthas filled in space in the conversation. In the distance, I could hear wind pushing through the landscape. I dropped the goggles into the tool bag at my feet and noted it was also mine, but I put that aside for now.

“I guess this is the part where we both share our terrible mistakes?” I finally said, frustrated. “It would make me feel better to hear you say anything.”

“We all did what we thought we had to do,” Ben finally spoke up. A flash of anger rippled through me before I met his eyes again. The mighty Kylo Ren looked broken.

“I dream about her,” his voice was just a whisper. “I dream about Rey.” He clarified. The landscape stretched out around us, and I wished badly to be back on the base, to be around my friends, my family. Suddenly, the constant partying was attractive, and there was a longing in my stomach for some chaos. The silence out here was too much.

Rey, the scavenger and Jedi, had won me over as soon as she scolded Poe about frying one of a fighter ship’s engines or when she helped me fix a BB unit for another pilot. Her smile, her awkward furrowed brow, her power, her laughter. She was a good person, and I may not have known her well, but she didn’t deserve to die for us.

I shivered despite the heat of the suns.

“What were you to Rey? What connected you both?” I asked.

“We were a dyad,” he said simply, and as I turned, he recognised my confusion. “We shared a unique bond across the force. We were connected. Two that was one.”

I nodded and tried to process the idea. It sounded similar to the myth of soulmates that I’d been told as a child. It was like finding the other part of yourself. The problem with the concept, I’d always found, that it insinuated you weren’t whole to start with.

“So, the force?” I started cautiously. “Through the force, you were connected to her. Did – Did you love her? Was it like that?” The question didn’t need to be answered, and even I was surprised at how bold I was being. There on his face was the loss I could only assume was from the loss of the partner, someone who had been so irrevocably entwined with his life.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and took off the gloves. I dropped them into the tool bag before I watched him. He straightened and crossed his arms. The bridge of his nose crinkled before he wiped at his nose. His eyes were red.

“I never expected you to say that to me,” Ben murmured.

“I never expected to say that to you,” I chuckled and took a step forward to rest against the fence.

The Banthas grumbled behind me, and it made me laugh. Here we were having a serious conversation, and those two creatures were still whining about something on the other side of the paddock.

“What do you call those two?” I asked, pointing over my shoulder. Ben laughed then shrugged.

“You didn’t give them names?” I grinned. “You have to give them names!”

“I never thought about it,” he chuckled. Still smiling, he climbed over the fence. He leaned back on the fence. “What do you want to call them?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “What are they like? You spent more time with them than I have.”

“Well, maybe we should call one… Sparky?” A grin stretched over Ben’s face.

“Where did you hear that?” I mentally noted to kill Poe if he kept using his nickname for me in front of anyone else. Did Poe call me that when I wasn’t around? I was sure going to ask.

“Oh, I just like the name,” he raised an eyebrow.

“Did Poe tell you his nickname for me? I will kill him.”

“When would I have the chance to speak to Dameron?” His smile became a smirk. “It’s your nickname?” He seemed too pleased with himself.

“How did you know?” I asked again.

“It was on one of the messages to the terminal in the outpost,” he shrugged.

“I need to start deleting messages,” I mumbled.

“Let’s call one of them Sparky,” he nudged me. “It’s a good name.”

“What about the other one?” I pointed at the other Bantha, who was standing rigidly still. It was unblinking and was listening to Sparky grumble.

“I don’t know,” Ben rubbed his chin in fake thought.

I crossed my arms and tried to think of a good name for the creature. “What about Tiny?”

“What?” Ben laughed. “I guess it’s a good name for now.”

It was decided that the two would be Sparky and Tiny.


	6. Chapter 6

The whisky was bitter and cheap, but I had stopped caring. I was trying to just enjoy the simple pleasure of having one glass alone when Ben joined me. Without asking, he slid into the booth before pouring himself a glass of the whisky. I watched him carefully; gone was the careful considered Ben from the trip to Mos Eisley. This Ben was more relaxed, free.

After pouring his glass, his eyebrows crinkled, and he looked up with a slight grimace. I realised I probably needed to smile so I looked less annoyed.

“You disapprove?” he asked. A smile danced at the edges of his lips and he leaned forward onto the table.

“Not at all, you could have asked for a drink,” I took a sip of the whiskey and the taste was awful. I must have visibly cringed at the taste because Ben chuckled.

“I did help you find it,” he said. “I should be entitled to one drink.” His hazel eyes were warm as they met mine. The eye contact lasted a second too long and we both looked away. Maintaining eye contact with Ben had taken a couple of weeks; at first, I had struggled to meet his gaze without suddenly feeling nauseous.

I glanced back up. His eyes were flicking from the glass and back up to my gaze.

“Do you have any good drinking stories?” he asked. The silence was getting to him and making him seem nervous? I cradled my glass of whisky and pretended to give the question deep consideration.

“No,” I smirked. “I have never been drunk. Even back on Corellia.”

“Seriously never?” he asked.

“Never,” I said simply. “Why? Do you have any drinking stories?”

“I have one or two,” Ben smirked. He poured himself another drink.

“Are you going to tell me?” I asked and reached to take the bottle from his hand.

“Okay,” his lips tugged up at one side into a smile. “One time I got so drunk, friends of mine had to carry me back to the ship.”

“That’s not really a story.”

“Yeah, well if I gave more details, you might start to view it less positively,” he whispered as his smile drooped on one side. I knew what he meant. The things we could share about our lives before being at the outpost would bring out some ugly emotions and negative thoughts. Being angry was justified but it didn’t change anything. It was going to take time to get past that and find acceptance. We could only control who we were in the present.

“Let’s play cards!” I jumped up eager to move the conversation. Ben grinned.

* * *

The quality of the card game worsened with every drink we had. It spiralled into me swearing a lot and hoping that Ben couldn’t read my mind. Jedis couldn’t do that, right? It was just emotions they sensed. That’s what I hoped. Ben was a good card player and I started to realise that he had maybe picked up on more social skills than he let on. He bet me at every turn and frustration crept up the back of my skull, which was unfiltered thanks to the alcohol.

“You are cheating,” I pointed at him. Heat surged to my face and I slammed a hand down on the table.

“No, I’m not,” he laughed.

“You are, this is some force using bullshit,” I grumbled and threw my cards on the table between us.

“I never would have guessed,” he smirked and leaned back. He held his glass in one hand and took a very casual sip.

“Never guessed what?” I asked and poured myself another glass. Someone probably should have stopped me from taking another drink. The bottle was quite large and had a very high alcohol percentage. I could feel the burn of it at the back of my throat every time I took a gulp.

“That you’re a sore loser.” I desperately wanted to wipe that smirk off of his stupid face. _He is handsome_ , a part of my brain thought, and I gagged.

“You okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“Fine,” I coughed and took another gulp. “Let’s play again.”

Ben grinned and reshuffled the cards. The night was stretching on but neither of us had anything important planned for the next day.

“I’m going to win,” I mumbled as he dealt my hand and I held the cards close to my chest.

“Of course, you are,” he replied and he smiled knowingly. I grimaced and tried to focus on the game. One hand clutched the cards while the other drummed a steady beat on the table. He showed his hand. I swore under my breath.

“Right enough of these annoying cards,” I caved and threw my cards into a pile again.

I sipped my drink, sulked and watched Ben put the cards away. His hands were bare again and his usual black gloves were back in the sleeping quarters. I had started to pay more attention to his level of clothing as it seemed to be an indication of his state of mind. Putting it into categories, if nearly all of his skin was covered then he was more on edge than usual. If his hands were bare, or he wore only a long sleeve shirt instead of his jacket and a shirt and gloves, he was more at ease. I guessed his clothes were a way to create a barrier between himself and the world. It was a bit of Kylo Ren he couldn’t let go.

“Okay, I have one drinking story,” I mumbled.

“What? I thought you’d never gotten drunk?” Ben poured himself another drink. A small genuine smile touched his lips.

“I have a drinking story,” I said and tried not to laugh. “When I still lived on Corellia, I managed to get my hands on a bottle of Phattro. I would have been about eighteen. Me and a couple of friends decided to drink it as quickly as possible. I drank most of it – because we took turns. We ended up outside the Santhe shipyards.” I took a big gulp. “We decided that we would try to hijack a freighter.”

Ben began to chuckle.

“As the only one who had,” I coughed, suddenly embarrassed. “ _Messed_ around with ships and droids, I tipsily managed to rewire the panel to get us in. We got up to the freighter and we were immediately caught by a couple of guards. They went to take us to the port authority and as soon as they tried to put us into their transporter, I turned.” I sucked in a breath. “I turned and vomited all over this tall gruff-looking guard.” Ben started to laugh. “I had to stay in those clothes for a full night in the port authority’s holding cells.”

Ben laughed heartily.

“My boyfriend at the time was very aggrieved when he had to come get me the next day,” I laughed. “He was very annoyed to take time out of his important diplomatic work that he did on behalf of his very wealthy father.”

Ben’s eyebrows raised at a mention of me being in a relationship.

“I’m surprised,” he mumbled. “Again.”

“I’m not the stuffy mechanic you think I am.” I shrugged.

“I know,” he chuckled.

“Did you not have any young loves that went wrong?”

Ben went red as he ran a hand through his long black hair. I chuckled at Ben’s sudden embarrassment. I was surprised that such a handsome, and formerly blunt, man was uncomfortable at the mention of romance.

“I was training to be a Jedi and then…” he trailed off. He kept leaving out the bits he knew would probably anger me and I was thankful but it felt like only hearing half of the story.

“I’m sure even being a bad Sith in training had its perks,” I joked.

“Not like that,” Ben said. “I didn’t have time for _romance_. Tell me more about this diplomat’s son.”

I smirked. “He was a bit dull, but we both liked taking things apart and we both liked going to the casino.”

“He was very dull then?” He chuckled at getting in a small insult about my interests. 

“Shut up!” I sighed. “Yes, he would talk about the newest policy or permit that was being discussed for Coronet City.” I rolled my eyes. “He also had a speeder which made him very handy.”

Ben chuckled again yet his eyes focused on my face eerily. He was studying me. My face reddened and I tried to look away.

“Honestly, the next one was a bit better and more interesting,” I smiled. “She was a pirate and I worked in her crew for a couple of years before ending up with... the resistance.” I winced as I realised that I’d brought the conversation back to the subject we so desperately wanted to stay away from.

“You can bring it up,” Ben sighed. “I was part of the First Order. You were in the Resistance.” A thread of anger had turned his usually calm voice harsh.

“I just don’t want to force it,” I whispered.

“We need to,” Ben leaned forward. “I killed people, I tortured Poe, I did terrible things to people you care about.”

“I know,” I hissed. I was too tipsy to have this deep conversation.

“Talk about it, Shel.” His voice dripped out my name and I felt ill.

“You were part of the First Order,” I repeated. “You caused Rey’s death,” I whispered that last part. I didn’t know if was wholly true because Rey could have still died at Palpatine’s hands but it always felt like his fault. “You tortured my friend and you forced your way into his mind. You abused your powers and destroyed planets.”

“Yes,” Ben grimaced.

“I should hate you,” I continued. “But I want to give you a chance because… Rey died.” I grimaced and hoped that it would end.

“Yes, she did,” Ben whispered. “She gave me hope when no one else could and I believed her, in the end.”

I watched him swirl the liquid in his glass and he continued. “I was full of pain. I was a monster and I realised what I needed to do. I found purpose. Then she was gone. And I couldn’t bring her back.”

I said nothing.

“I understood why you hated me and why you were afraid of me,” Ben smiled. “I would be too. I don’t understand why you don’t hate me anymore.”

“I don’t know. I just can’t.” My voice was tired and weak. I sounded pitiful.

Ben nodded and downed his drink. The silence engulfed us, and I waited for him to break it somehow. He didn’t.

“I should go to bed,” I sighed. The alcohol was starting to make my head fuzzy and warm. It amplified the tiredness I already had.

“Me too,” he replied. We both looked up at the same time. His eyes struck me with a ferocity that caught me off guard. I swallowed. He blushed. _Shit_. Hurrying, I launched myself towards the kitchen unit and put away my glass. My eyes stayed firmly on where I was going, and I refused to look directly at Ben. I paused as I put away the whisky bottle.

Ben was behind me and I could feel it. There was only a couple of inches at most between us. His hand came to my shoulder and much to my surprise, I didn’t flinch. He gave it a light squeeze. Gentle and soft.

“Thank you, Shel, for not hating me,” Ben whispered. “I hope you sleep better tonight.”

He pulled back before leaving the room ahead of me.

I sucked in a breath and tried to figure out what had just happened between us. Something was there when he touched my shoulder, and now something was rooted in between the monotony of the everyday. There was something gradually pulling us closer.

I didn’t want to think about it.


End file.
